


Enkindled

by elil



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Manipulation, Partial Mind Control, Pre-Canon, and bugs, grimm discovers green, grimm: how, i refuse to believe grimm becoming the heart's vessel was a smooth process, it's not always the best at it, never seen a bug before - is now a bug, nightmare heart: 404 errors, nightmare heart: ok let’s do a ritual, other tags & characters to be added as we go, the nightmare heart has to learn how to be nice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2020-11-08 19:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elil/pseuds/elil
Summary: Grimm is selected to be the Nightmare Heart's vessel, but the role doesn't exactly come with instructions.





	1. in which grimm becomes a bug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Points at grass. What is THAT.

One moment Lycoris was idly helping tidy up the bar, hunting down the last bit of sparkpowder he’d thrown into the crowd (”It was entirely safe”) and lost (when some of it sparked and the nearest bat flipped an entire table in alarm—”Technically still safe”). The barkeep looked more tired than annoyed and that, that Lycoris could appreciate. 

Then a presence boomed into his mind, overwhelming and burning, and he jumped and smacked the underside of a table. _Come,_ it said, and he was wondering why in this red realm he would do such a thing when his body leapt into the air regardless, the barkeep already out the side-cave. He followed the tunnel into the central chamber.

Usually the chamber was empty, save for a couple council members or a bat using the chamber to access another tunnel. Now, hundreds upon hundreds of bats poured into the chamber, roosting around-

The most beautiful thing in this realm and surely any other. The Nightmare Heart beat steadily, red eyes glowing and fire dancing off its form. He had seen depictions of it in scrolls, seen the haze it resided it when flying about, but never the Heart itself. He roosted, then quickly realizing doing so meant he see only a portion of it now. He sank his talons into the ceiling and scooted closer to the room’s center, ignoring the disgruntled noises of other bats.

For many long minutes, there was quiet. They all waited with bated breath, any attempts at conversation quickly hushed.

_My children,_ it finally said. Lycoris could feel the swell of emotion—pride, joy, relief—in the bats around him as easily as he could feel it in his own chest. _I have come to bestow upon one of you a great honor._

Ah. He deflated. There were nobles and priests and warriors of great repute among them, bats who had devoted themselves to the Heart. They would receive it. A part of him wanted to leave, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes from the Heart.

_Each of you will present yourselves to me. After this, I will choose the one who will serve as my vessel in realms beyond, to be my King of the Nightmare, to be reshaped in scarlet fire._

Its words resulted in a burst of delighted whispers, but he didn’t miss the albeit soft chatter of concern. What did that really mean? A question you did not ask the god of your realm, or any god at all. 

A force pressed against him, preventing him from moving. A single bat detached themselves from the ceiling and hovered before the Heart. Lycoris was not sure even five seconds passed before the bat flew back to roost again. He found it difficult to hold a thought, a fog nestling in his mind and he merely watched bat after bat fly to the Heart.

Finally the pressure lifted, a soft _Come_ forming in his mind. He flew over.

The Heart stared at him as though its gaze would scorch him. He balked, managing to miss only a few wingbeats before recovering. In one grand mess all his anxiety, guilt, hopes, _being_ was dragged to the forefront of his mind, incomprehensible to him even though he sensed the Heart was carding through this in moments.

“Stop,” he hissed. That was his baggage! The Heart could get its own! 

The already quiet chamber fell dead silent. Fear spiked through him as the mess was all but shoved back down, the Heart blinking but not saying anything. He felt a nudge and he flew back to the ceiling, wrapping his wings tight around him. The bat next to him shook her head. Whatever, he thought, doing his best to slow his racing heart.

The rest passed in a blur. He distantly realized the last bat had roosted again, and that the Heart had gone quiet. He was so ready to go back to his cave and sleep.

_You,_ the Heart then said. He felt that burning gaze again and fear coursed through him again. _Come._

Great, he thought, somehow managing to get into the air. Its going to eat me or something first. Cool. 

_From this day on,_ the shuffling around him told him it was projecting this to the others as well. _You will be known as Grimm. You will serve me eternally. My will is to be your will. Do you understand?_

What. What? He almost said this, barely managing to find an ounce of decorum to instead say, “Y- yes, Lord.”

_Then come, and be reborn._

And with that it disappeared. Something called him from beyond the cave proper and he rose. No one stopped him, the sea of bats only staring until he was gone from the chamber. A flurry of voices and wingbeats exploded behind him, but he did not stop to listen, focused only on reaching the Nightmare Heart beyond.

The Heart was beautiful. It was also horrifying, the air a deep red around it, its bright red eyes still piercing through the fog enshrouding it. He cast out a net of sound but there was nothing but the Heart, massive, its beating loud in his ears. Ichor dripped into what sounded like a pool below.

_Grimm,_ the Heart said. He stopped, struggling to hover. There was ceiling but he dared not roost on it. _For ages, I have fed on the nightmares of many a realm. It has sustained me, but still I hunger. In the waking world, dreams, nightmares, memories, collect in waste. You will gather them. I will feast._

“Lord,” he said. He meant it more as question—do what? How? What sort of name was Grimm? Really?—but the Heart seemed to take it as affirmation, humming contently. He supposed that was for the best.

_Below me is a pool of nightmare and flame. Fly into it. I shall shape you into a form better suited to my purposes._

He looked down. He could hear ichor dripping, and a sudden loud pop, but saw only fog when he cast out sound. He flew lower.

A bubbling pool of red and black was coated in scarlet fire. Every bit of him saw this, processed this, and then went: Oh. No, thank you.

_Grimm,_ it said. Okay. Okay. Just—go. He folded his wings and careened into it.

The pool seared through fur and flesh and he _screamed_, snapping his wings open. The membrane was already dotted with holes, melting, and even if it wasn’t the liquid was too thick to rise out of. Tendrils appeared and shoved him under, nightmare choking and burning him from the inside out.

Abruptly darkness washed over him.

He awoke far more slowly. Ichor dripped, for some reason so, so loud. He went to unfurl his wings and he clutched the soil beneath him. His heart beat slowly and he knew it was in time with the Nightmare Heart. Warmth, somehow comforting, coursed through him.

He blearily opened his eyes. The pool bubbled, held back by the shore he was lying on. He sat up and had to squeeze his eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over him.

Finally he could open them again. He was smaller, his fur replaced with a black shell wrapped in some sort of red leather. It sort of hurt to sit on it and he shakily got to his feet.

He had—hands? Claws? But his _wings_. If not here, arms painfully bare, then where were his wings? The leather twitched and he grabbed it with a fresh bout of nausea. 

He’d thought it a cloak. He could see—well, feel—now it split it two, and though it overlapped a bit and fanned around his neck he could move it, them, his wings, sad and tattered and he barely managed to bite down a sob, why had the Heart _done this_-

_Good,_ the Heart hummed.

Good? What was good? He turned and a tendril shoved him back, and for a moment he feared he was being pushed back into the pool. Except instead he passed through something with a _hawh_, and suddenly he was staring at himself through a portal, whatever he _was_ now, unconscious and supported by a tendril.

But if he was there, and also here…? He glanced down. There was green on the ground that rippled when a cool breeze hit him. His wings were now black save for the undersides, and he looked back up.

“What-”

The portal snapped shut.

There was green but on a brown thing in its place.

A bright yellow thing floated in the blue ceiling, painful to look at.

This was all he managed to even begin to process before he whispered “What the fuck,” and threw up. Emptying his stomach offered no wisdom and he found it harder and harder to breathe. Where was he? How was he supposed to, what, gather dreams? How was he supposed to contact the Heart? Why had it made him not a bat? What even was he? It was not any creature he recognized from the nightmare realm. His poor _wings._

Calm down, he told himself. His body instantly responded with a sob. Great. He was doing great. Wherever he was, there had to be other whatever he was. Maybe they’d help him, or at least tell him what this wavy green stuff was. It didn’t seem to be hurting him, but there was an awful lot of it. He managed an actually steadying breath and set off.

He was not sure how long he walked, only that he was confident he hated how tired the process made him. The bright yellow thing had moved from almost overhead to horizontal with him, the ceiling darkening as it did. He tried to cast out a net of sound and failed. Why, he thought miserably, had the Heart given him such a useless form? Why had it left him here? Why-

His mounting panic was stopped by a silhouette appearing over the hill, holding a torch. They did not change course as he approached, and he broke into a run the last few yards. He had to stop and double over for a moment to catch his breath.

They chirped and he looked up. They were fairly round and a deep blue with white spots, but they had a shell and claws similar to his own. “H- hi,” he croaked. “Sorry. I’m Ly- Grimm. I was wondering if you could help me? I’m panicking like, a lot? A lot. The exhaustion is really tampering it down right now.”

They tilted their head and chirped again.

Oh.

Of course.

“I don’t… I’m sorry,” he said.

They considered him for a long minute, then nodded and walked past him. He watched them go until their torch was smothered by the now encompassing darkness. He sat down and hugged his knees.

“I want to go home,” he whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy October y'all! What better way to celebrate than with more Grimm, my favorite batbug.
> 
> This will use a lot of ideas present in Fire on Fire, but not necessarily in the same way. The two fics are not companion pieces.


	2. in which grimm becomes a vessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It's all a process, you see,_ the Heart did spake, to which Grimm replied: What.

At some point he convinced himself to stand, just long enough to make his way over to an acceptably sturdy green-brown thing. It did not hurt to touch, and it had some sort of branch, giving a bit when he sank his claws into it and roosted. He wrapped himself in the remnants of his wings.

Wind, far cooler than the realm’s, cut through and chilled him. It would all do, he supposed, shutting his eyes. Sleep came swiftly.

_Grimm,_ the Heart hummed, and he found himself blearily waking. He was, somehow, in the realm, gripping the stone ceiling and terrifyingly close to the Heart itself. Tendrils crept around him. 

“Lord,” he croaked. He had so many questions—how was he here now? Was he in both? At the same time? Was he being teleported? What was the green-brown stuff? What was the green stuff? Was the yellow thing a god and why did it move?—but could not find his voice again. He’d known the Heart powerful, but to be so close to it, its power rolling off in sparks of scarlet and wisps of flame, struck fear through him. 

He yelped as a tendril abruptly wrapped around him and ripped him from his perch. It set him on the ground and he inched away from the pool, swallowing thickly. “What-”

Another tendril burst from the Heart and ran him through; he coughed wetly, mind whiting, a long moment passing before he fully registered the pain. He slumped, the tendril curling to hold him up. Scarlet snaked down it and tore through him and he _screamed_.

Again all his anxieties, his guilt and hopes, his being was dragged up. He barely had a moment to linger on this before it was slipping away, like trying to hold ash, then gone save for the faintest of threads. Grimm felt horribly, terribly _empty_.

The Heart’s presence then weighed on him, ancient and overwhelming. For ages and ages and ages it’d been, unmoving. Once washed in a light both softer and blinding until it and her had been too much, for them, for the minds who merely visited, for the beings both had crafted in desperate attempts to cast from themselves even a fraction of the burden of _being_ until finally they tore themselves and the realm apart. How much this had taken from it, the frailty that lingered despite its efforts to recover, shielding itself in aloofness. The _need_ to heal, its determination to do so even if it had to put its trust in another, even if it had to break him a thousand thousand times to ensure success. Flashes of dream and nightmare, most banal but a few as desperate and overwhelming as the Heart’s. Fire poured into him, steam hissing through the grooves in his shell and his voice cracked. He clawed at the tendril but it remained unmoved.

Time lost meaning. His mind fogged with images that stopped being remotely comprehensible. His voice failed entirely and his shell began to melt. He stilled, even as he remained horribly aware.

At some point-

It stopped-

And he was placed on his feet. His legs instantly gave out and he collapsed; hitting the ground hurt, probably, but all he felt was a heavy pulsing through him and a strange spot of emptiness. Awareness was starting to slip from him. Was he dying? That would be nice. Scarlet edged his vision and he shut his eyes as the last of his strength ebbed away.

There was darkness, quiet. It was welcome.

Then it began to fade, replaced with a searing scarlet. His senses did not return all at once. He dug his claws into stone. Drew a ragged breath, the heaviness lifting. Just the stone and his breathing for a long minute, then joined by ichor popping nearby and burning sulfur. He more spat a bit of bile than threw it up.

A tendril picked him up. He groaned, blearily opening his eyes as it lifted him to the ceiling. He roosted gratefully, too exhausted to wrap his wings about him. Where he’d been run through had healed, the shell a bright red. He was so, so thirsty and so, so tired.

_Excellent,_ the Heart said. Its pulse quickened and he felt his own do the same, swallowing back the bile it brought up.

“What?” He was too tired for decorum, barely able to form the word at all.

The Heart definitely heard him, because he felt more of its many eyes shift towards him, but it otherwise ignored him. 

“What?” he repeated, somehow managing to raise his voice. 

A wash of surprise, followed by, _I made you a vessel._

That offered little explanation. Vessels held things, but the _hows_ were notably absent. Grimm decided to move on for now, wearily asking, “Before?”

Confusion, and he gestured vaguely to himself. 

_Oh. A bug._

This also offered little, but at least he had a word for the—bugs—he met now. He shut his eyes.

_You are tired,_ the Heart said, not really a question despite the hint of one in its tone. He peeled his eyes open and nodded. _It was supposed to rejuvenate you._

Grimm was pretty sure he’d died and gotten better. He considered that quite rejuvenating, flinching when a tendril pressed against his shell. The Heart hesitated for a moment before continuing, surprisingly gentle. He relaxed and shut his eyes again, finally wrapping himself in his wings when they retreated. Sleep washed over him, dark and quiet save for the Nightmare Heart beating next to him.

* * *

He awoke to light and warmth, groaning and burying his face in his wings. After a few minutes he peeked his head out. Ah. He was in the waking world, the yellow thing back and now on the other side of the ceiling. Interesting. 

And in front of him was the blue bug, staring at him, then the ground, then him again before tilting their head. He dropped to the ground and they nodded. Chirped. This, he thought with a sigh, was going to be difficult. The bug chirped again and made a circle gesture, then pointed at him.

Grimm, at a loss, shrugged. The bug did not seem deterred though, picking up a stick and drawing what he assumed was him, roosting, and then a circle around him. Whapped the circle with the stick.

“Where you trying to attack me?” Grimm asked. No. They didn’t seem aggressive. Poke him, maybe. They whapped the circle again and he shrugged again.

They gave him a withering look that clearly read _how do you not know_? Grimm wished he could _begin_ to explain how little he currently knew. He plucked a blade of the green beneath them and held it up, tilting his head. This earned him an incredulous stare and he wiggled it a bit.

“Grass,” the bug said.

“Grass,” Grimm repeated. It was clear in that moment he cemented an _immense_ amount of concern in the bug.

“Grubling?” And they lowered a palm closer to the ground. Pointed at him and then repeated the motion. Small. A small him. A pup? The Heart must have made him bug _adjacent_, given he was taller than the other and so clearly full grown. 

Actually. _Was_ he full grown? There were different bats; surely there were different bugs. He shrugged again.

“Ah,” they said, letting out a big sigh. “_Teenager_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pour one out for our bug friend.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and for the kudos and comments! <3


End file.
